


blue eyes, bluer lips

by reprisal (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Death, Depressed Draco Malfoy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Major Character Injury, Mentioned Narcissa Black Malfoy, Minor Character Death, Narcissa Black Malfoy Dies, Vampire Harry, Vampire Harry Potter, Vampires, i dont support jkr btw, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/reprisal
Summary: Draco bleeds out due to an unfortunate run-in with a vampire.
Kudos: 10





	blue eyes, bluer lips

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii!!!! sorry i didnt have too much of a plan for this fic so theres not really a developed prologue. i might rewrite it one of these days!! just a tw for blood (not in excruciating detail) but that's to be expected with a vampire au hehe also yeah there is death and implied death jsyk

Unfamiliar darkness swirled and contorted in every direction in a way that rendered him helpless. It was dark, dark enough to swallow Draco Malfoy’s entire injured body whole. He couldn’t detect a notable vibration of sound except for the muffled static inside of his fading consciousness. Aside from that, it was as quiet as a nun’s prayer. He stared, despite his shut eyes, at the hallucinations around him from the frosty sidewalk that chilled him to the marrow. Draco pictured a familiar landscape of the night sky; a night sky filled with glittering stars that illuminated his stern face, and his now late mother standing right beside him alive and unusually well.

It was familiar because it was his last prominent memory of Narcissa—stargazing on November 11th. It was the last November 11th they ever spent together, seeing how Narcissa died unexpectedly the following day. Today marked the year anniversary of her death. Whenever he pondered it Draco was shocked he lived this long without his mother by his side. His routines changed so it took some time getting used to, even now he still slips up sometimes waiting for his mom to pat his head and remind him it’ll be ok.

He was never told how his mother died. The information was never disclosed to the public, having been withheld by his father. Naturally, there were blatant rumors written in the Daily Prophet. It caused Draco’s skin to crawl whenever he imagined all of the reporters that were benefiting from his mother’s death. His larger than life wish was to discover what happened to his mother, even if he had to die trying. It wasn’t fair that she was taken from him. It also wasn’t fair he had to overhear people conspiring about her death. If by chance he was out of the manor, his ears remained sheltered by his palms to keep the inquisitive outsiders berating him at bay. That and his worsened depression kept him cooped up inside long enough to not encounter that problem often.

Draco had been lying helpless on the ground for what felt to be an unbearable amount of time ruefully contemplating his mother’s death and his meager existence. So much so that he forgot he was perishing himself. Upon realizing that fact, he noticed the dull sensation of thick blood escaping from his chest and the pure red draining from his face. He couldn’t see the carnage, but he could tell that it was bad. Very bad. If his mom were alive right now, she would scold him gently for getting into such a predicament. Blood soaked into the light cotton of his white button-up shirt and cascaded across his deathly pale skin through the snowbank beside him. This had been the second time he was cursed by Sectumsempra, but this time was different. This time he wouldn’t be so lucky as to have someone perform the counter-curse. This time he was left to bleed out.

He wanted answers, and this is how he got them. Draco can't remember why Harry struck him again, but he knows now what happened to his mother. Vampires. The few cases of missing Slytherins and former Slytherins. It was all because of Harry Potter.

Tens of looming bleak eyes pierced through his fleeting soul, he was vulnerable. Many stomachs twisted in knots as their fellow student lay dying on the tenebrous and frozen street. There were no shrill screams nor whispers. No twitches or fidgets. No misty-eyes. Just unadulterated fear coursing through their veins and firm roots extending from the soles of their feet keeping them planted as they stared uneasily.

“Draco,” Harry’s brittle voice carried itself in a firm, yet gentle whisper as to not startle the apprehensive students. Draco mustered the strength to sputter out the same red blood as the rest of his body in a feeble attempt to communicate. It oozed out of his half-opened mouth, pooling at the crook of his exposed neck. Harry fought the urge of the alluring scent of freshly shed blood. Draco’s blood was crimson and smelled of musty iron—utterly delicious to a vampire. However, the sight would be egregious if Harry were to succumb to the scent. The regret of casting Sectumsempra began to set in; he should’ve swiftly bit the neck as he routinely does, he wouldn’t have to wait as long to drink the glorious red and regain his diminishing strength. At least he evaded the risk of “turning” a mortal.

Sectumsempra was Harry’s favorite spell. He couldn’t begin to fathom how he lived centuries without it. The first time he stumbled upon it was by a fortunate accident, but ever since then, it came in clutch whenever he was parched and needed a spark plug. Sectumsempra was messy, so he doesn't cast it often, but it got the job done. The blood could last him weeks at a time if he preserved it properly. Harry habitually targeted Slytherins as he felt lessened guilt if they end up badly injured or deceased. His victims seldom die, but with the number of witnesses present he couldn’t afford to collect the blood just yet. The handful of students had witnessed the aftermath of the curse moments earlier, however, if he drank Draco’s blood now he would expose himself as a vampire. The students couldn’t be made aware of an undercover vampire among them that’s posing as one of their peers. The word would spread like an epidemic and he would consequently die of thirst. Unless the students would willingly give up their blood, of course. That scenario was doubtful, and he would most likely be expelled from Hogwarts anyway. He would be left to find harder targets instead of a cesspool of ripe, mostly youthful necks. Harry had no choice but to let Draco lay in the garish red that once flowed through his veins until there was no red left to flow.

Harry was normally much more careful when performing the curse and knew how to clean up thoroughly, the only other time things ended up this sticky was on November 12th of last year.

One of Harry’s victims, Narcissa Malfoy.

That day will never escape the deep trenches of Harry’s mind; the memory will outlive Draco, whether he dies right now or lives a typical human lifespan. It was a deep-seated regret he won’t ever be able to shake. He couldn’t handle another mistake at the cost of someone’s life, but as of right now, he had to suffer the consequences.

Hermione Granger put a shaky foot forward as the sharp wind brushed past her cheek.

“Why?” the bold Hermione spoke rather meekly, "what happened?" If Hermione didn’t know what to do, then all hope must have vacated. The heads belonging to the solemn faces hung like wilting flowers.

“I had to, Hermione. He’s dangerous.”

“And you’re utterly foolish, you can’t just leave him there to die!” tears formed at her ducts, her face harsher now.

“Do you… remember the counter-curse?”

“His wounds are disastrous, I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’m not aware of any kind of spell that would fix this, and I highly doubt the professors or even Madam Pomfrey will know what to do either,” she was firm and hasty with her disposition. Her face no longer tense and short-lived tears melted into her skin with the falling snow. Hermione had to be the one to guide everyone else, there was no time for tears. Harry, not outwardly concerned, itched an eyebrow.

“So, this is it then…”

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not MY fault,” she huffed. Her frosty breath hung in the crisp air like a misty cloud. They simultaneously glanced at the languishing Draco Malfoy, but nothing had changed from five minutes ago. He was still grey and empty like the keen atmosphere surrounding them.

The bitter wind’s icy fingers poked at her skin and prodded at the inside of her nose as Hermione inhaled to prepare herself. She sludged towards Draco’s inert body, knelt beside him, and placed her hand on his chest. The browning blood that seeped into his clothes and lingered on his skin didn’t transfer to her exposed hand upon contact. Hermione checked his vitals.

Nothing, he was gone.

The fire of life had been extinguished.

Hermione softly bit her cracked lip, not turning her head around to face the unblinking gaze of the group of teenagers. The students instantly recognized what the verdict was without a single word uttered. They were too numb to cry, partly from the wicked cold.

The students, being too far from their school to alert the professors of what had happened, did not know what to do. The minute the professors do get notified would be the minute leading directly to Harry’s expulsion. Not for being a vampire, that got kept a secret. But for killing Draco Malfoy with his own now unclean hands.


End file.
